


Good At Falling

by Salty_Nixon_1975



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Content changes, Destiny, Falling In Love, Fluff, Growing Up, Kids, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other: See Story Notes, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rewriting currently, Skinny Steve, Slow Build, Soulmates, lovestory of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Nixon_1975/pseuds/Salty_Nixon_1975
Summary: destiny /ˈdɛstɪni/, noun: the events that will necessarily happen to a particular person or thing in the future.soulmate /ˈsəʊlmeɪt/, noun: a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.Two souls. Matched together in heaven. Destined to fall for each other. To find each other. Again and again.





	1. [1]

_God never intervened into the happenings on the earth. But sometimes He puts two souls into the world. Soulmates. Which He blessed with the destiny to be bound together. To find each other, no matter what. Look at Romeo and Juliet, Achilles and Patroclus. They were drawn to each other from the moment they met. In this story we meet Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes. Two souls, God has chosen to be bound together._ **   
**

**Epilogue**

Steve was feeling sick. His asthma was bad today. He felt like throwing up. His mum told him that it was just nervousness. Because today was the big day. Today was Steve's first day at school.

"Every child is feeling like this before their first schoolday, Steve", Sarah Rogers said, when Steve refused to put on his jacket. She sighed. It has been a hard time. Steve's father had died when Steve was two years old. Sarah was a nurse and always had to take Steve to a neighbour before she left for her shift. And she worked until late the night, taking all day and half night shifts, making barely enough money for being a single mother. But she tried her best.

Steve was a sickly child. Dealing with ashtma, several kinds of fever, and general heart trouble, she had to stay home and take care of Steve more than earning money for a long time.

But that didn't stop her from teaching Steve some important things. Since he was too weak to stay out of bed longer than a few hours until he was seven, Sarah taught Steve how to write, to read and showed him basic mathematics. She brought him books, she got from the neighbours. She got money together to buy him a sign block and two pencils. Sarah had noticed his excitement about pictures in books and the newspapers, so she encouraged him to draw what he saw.

And Steve loved drawing. He loved how he could create a world, a world he imagined this world must be like. When he was six years old, he had pneumonia. It got him really really bad. The priest had been there, just in case, and his mum had been crying all the time. But Steve had a strong will to live. So he made it. He made it.

And now, Steve was seven years old, it was just after his birthday. His mum had told him he was strong enough now to go to school, like every kid his age. "You will meet many children your age, Steve. You are a smart little boy, you will make many friends."

Steve wasn't so sure about that. When he had been healthy enough to leave the house, he had tried to become friends with some neighbours kids. They had been playing football or catch on the streets. At first they had gladly let him be part of their group. But soon enough his asthma had gotten the best of him. His mum had told him to better not romp out that much.

Luckily his mum was walking with him to school today. Steve wanted to grab her hand, but he felt like he was too old for that now. And he didnt want her to worry more than she should. He didnt want to make that hard for her. For his young age, Steve was very empathetic with the people around him, especially his mum. She was all he had. So he was a good boy and never caused any trouble, because he felt like his health problems were trouble enough for her.

"Be friendly and polite and do what the teacher tells you. School is fun, you'll see", Sarah tried to cheer him up. She smiled but Steve saw the worry in her eyes.

He kissed her on the cheek and followed the crowd of pupils inside of the building. His mum had told him to go to the headmasters office and that was where he went. A friendly young woman was waiting for him.

"Steven Grant Rogers?"

"Yes, that's me, ma'am."

She smiled. "I am Miss Young, your teacher. How are you?"

Steve just shrugged. "Nervous, i guess", he mumbled.

She nodded. "That's normal, Steven. Follow me..."

"It's Steve"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, ma'am. I mean, everyone calls me Steve."

Miss Young smiled again. "Well, Steve it is then..."

Steve followed her to his classroom.

So far so good. Miss Young made him introduce himself. He had to repeat his name, because he was too silent, but it was alright. He hoped nobody noticed his shaky breathe and he was relieved when Miss Young told him to sit down. The only empty chair was next to a brunette boy. Steve put his bag on the floor and tripped over it before he sat down. Some kids were laughing, but everything was alright.

"Hello", the brunette boy said.

"Hi", Steve mumbled.

"My name is James, but my friends call me Bucky." He smiled.

"Nice to meet you, James." Steve smiled oddly and turned to face the teacher. He didnt mean to be rude, but he really didnt know what to say to James.

They were told to put out a pencil and write down the words Miss Young was dictating them.

That was easy. Steve knew most of the words Miss Young was saying, so he had no problem writing them down. But James seemed to struggle.

After the third word, when he was thinking too long about it, crossed it out two times, he struggled to write the following down.

James groaned and ruffled through his messy hair.

Steve jogged his elbow softly, so James would look at him.

"You can copy from my paper if you want", he whispered and moved his arm, so James could read his words.

James checked, if Miss Young was looking in their direction, she wasnt, and whispered a "Thank you, Steve" before he started copying.

For the rest of the day, Steve had listened to Miss Young talking, while he was scribbling down some sketches on his paper until the school bell rang and he could go home.

When he was walking down the streets, he noticed some kids following him. It shouldnt be weird, but Steve had a bad feeling.

And that feeling poved him right, because when he was turning around a corner, there were two more boys. "Look who that is. The new kid."

They pulled him on his jacket and dragged him into the next alley.


	2. [2]

**Epilogue Part II**

Today hadnt been too bad.

Thanks to the new kid, Steve, he had not flunk the writing test and he had been called out only two times. Not that Bucky was a troublemaker. He just loved telling stories and asking weird questions.

But he hated writing dictations. He never got the words right fast enough to follow Miss Young while she was saying the next word.

His mum always asked him to read more. He would know how to write the words then.

But Bucky was more a teller than a reader. Instead reading stories, he made them up in his head and told them his little sisters as bedtime stories. Especially horror stories. Until they screamed and his mum had to rush inside and scolded him for scaring his sister when they should go sleep.

But today has been good.

When Steve had sitten down beside Bucky, he had shot him looks now and then.  
Sometimes Steve had been listening to Miss Youngs words, sometimes he had looked out of the window and scribbled down in his book.

Bucky had gotten a glimpse of what Steve was doing. Steve had drawn little sketches on his book. A tree, leaves...actually everything they could see when they looked outside the window.  
And he was good!

During lunch break, Steve had sitten alone. Bucky had wanted to go over and ask him to play with them, but then George had kicked the ball to his feet and challenged him, who could kick it higher.

He had won. Obviously.

Now Bucky was walking home alone, George already had said goodbye before he turned to his home street.

He heard them before he saw them.

It was not unusual that someone got beaten up in an alley. This was Brooklyn.

And usually Bucky would walk on. Kept himself out of other peoples affairs. But something kept him in place now.  
  
He peeked around the corner, carefully. Two boys were standing with their backs to him. They laughed and one of them swang his fist to hit something. Or actually someone, because the person he hit was going down and knocking over a trash can.

"You dont know when to give up, do you? Just give us your lunch money, and we will leave you be.."  
"I dont have to give you anything" The person on the ground spat out.

Jesus with that attitude they would not leave him alone forever...

"As you wish. But remember, this is on you!" One of them took a swing again.  
And as the motion of his body went to the side, Bucky saw blonde hair.

Was that..? No...

The blonde tried to stand up and Bucky inhaled sharply. It was Steve!

He hadnt paid much attention to Steve's appearance, when he sat next to him, but now he noticed the awkward big clothes on his skinny body. Not that that was something outstanding. Nearly everyone Bucky knew was poor and wore washed-out, patched clothes. But Steve looked so small in these big clothes.

Steve dodged another swing, but stumbled over the cap of the trashcan and fell down again, while the boys kept laughing.

Before Bucky decided what he could do, he stormed into the alley and kicked the boy, who hit Steve the first time. The guy cried out in pain and turned around to grab him. But Bucky, who got into several fights with his friends to prepare for situations like this, because this was Brooklyn and people were rough in these hard times, ducked down and pushed him into another trash can.

"What the fuck, man! Who do you think you are?"

The other boy tried to grab him, caught his collar and squeezed him against the brick wall. Ouw that hurt.

"Leave him alone!", Steve shouted. He had the cap of the trash can in his hands and though he looked terrible, he ran over and pounded the guy. But he was so small that he only hit the guys back.

"Hey what is going on here??" A policeman walked along the alley, looking alarmed. He looked over Steves bruised face and furrowed. "You in trouble, kid?"

The guy on the ground picked himself up and mumbled a "Nothing, Sir!"

Steve snorted and the policeman didnt looked convinced at all.

"I advise you to get the hell out of here, before i have to start arresting kids." he looked at the other boy. "Both of you!"

The boys mumbled "Yes, Sir!" And turned to leave, when the policeman whistled and made them stop.

"How about an apology before you leave?"

They looked at him in disbelief. The policeman sighed and laid his fingers at the cuffs, clipped on his hip. "As you wish..." He repeated what one of them had said to Steve earlier.

"Sorry! We are sorry for hurting you! And you!" The boys eyes wandered from Steve to Bucky and then they turned around and ran around the corner as fast as they could.

"You boys will be okay? You better let someone look over your eye and lip, kid."

"I will take care of him, Sir! Bucky said softly and walker over to Steve, placing his hand on Steves shoulder and ignored Steves surprised look at him. "Thank you."

"Its fine. Just look after each other, okay? This part of town is rough."

Bucky nodded and grabbed Steves hand, pulling him to go along with him.

"Thank you, but i had them on the ropes." Steve smiled weakly at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Sure you had, but tell me, where did you get that busted lip from?"

"Jerk" Steve shoved him, but laughed which made him whince because of his lip.

Bucky laughed with him. "Punk."

And that was the start of their friendship...


	3. Maybe You're The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a story planned, but I could not find a way to write it, so I changed the content.
> 
> This story will follow Steve and Bucky as soulmates.  
Loosely based on two albums which had a very big impact on my life: Good At Falling by The Japanese House and Fine Line by Harry Styles.
> 
> I hope you will enjoy the ride^^

It was one of these days.

Steve was sick. And when he was sick, he was thinking about his pathetic existence.

Bucky always told him that he was stronger than he looked like. That he was fighting a fight no one understood. "But I do! I do, because I know you, Steve"  
He knew that Steve always was the weak one, physically. Chronically ill with scoliosis, asthma, partially deaf, and heart trouble. But his spirits were strong. He, who knew what it meant to be the weak one, was always fighting the strong people. But only to protect the weak ones. 

Unfortunately that caused a lot of bruises and shiners. But his will to protect the weak ones always won.

Today, he couldnt fight for his own life. A few days ago he was running home from the corner shop in the rain. He had hurried to change into dry clothes as soon as he had stepped a foot inside, but his body already had been heating up.

So now his feverish mind went into places, it shouldnt. Steve was religious. He believed every woman and man on earth was there for a reason. Was loved by God. 

But he struggled to believe that he was important enough to live. He never talked about it. He just fought for others. 

On Sundays though, when he was in church, doing his prayers, he often wondered what the point was. Why was he alive? What had he to give? To leave behind in this world?

Who was there to fight for him?

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Bucky entered.

They hadnt seen each other for the summer. Bucky had gone to visit some relatives with his family and Steve had stayed at Brooklyn with his ma all summer. They had talked on the phone when Steve was at the corner shop sometimes, but not that often because he hadnt enough pennies.

Steve's eyes wandered along Bucky. From his shined shoes, Winifried Barnes always made sure their kids looked at their best, but eventually the shoes would end up dirty, because Bucky never missed out a game of football on the dirty streets or wrestling with the other guys. His eyes wandered up his brown pants, his white shirt and suspenders, the gold brown skin of his strong arms (when they had been back from their trip, Bucky had helped his dad at work to make some extra money for the family; and yeah Steve had the eyes of an artist, he knew Bucky's skin tone was gold brown, what about it?!) The tanned skin made his white teeth and ocean blue eyes glow. He was...

Bucky was glowing, like always. His hair was longer now, so he had to use pomade to slick it back. But some strands had fallen back, framing this angelic face.

Steve bit his bottom lip. Thats not how he wanted to think about Bucky, but it happened sometimes. Bucky would do something and Steve froze and stared at him until Bucky flipped him off and they broke into laughter, Steve tugging this warm feeling in his heart as far away as possible.

The only explanation he had was, that he was an artist. He had studied Bucky since he started drawing him as a little kid. He knew every shape of his face and figure...of course he would say that Bucky was beautiful...the only reasonable explanation.

The friendship with Bucky was keeping him sane from his depressing thoughts. Especially when they were that dark while he was sick. 

You could say Steve had two fires burning in his veins: The urge to help the weak ones and being friends with Bucky.

He had read somewhere, in one of the many books he had read during summer while Bucky had been on this family holiday, that "Personal connection creates mental and emotional stimulation, which are automatic mood boosters, while isolation is a mood buster".

When he thought about the two people he loved the most, his ma and Bucky (only in a friendly way, of course), he knew that they were his constants in his life. Two reasons to live for.

But this feeling for Bucky? It was different from what he felt for his ma. He had spent hours to grasp it. And whenever he was trying to think about it, Bucky was the only thing he could think about.

He suddenly was shook by a cough. Steve was struggling for breath, when Bucky rushed to his side and helped him to sit up higher to free his chest from the big, heavy blankets and rubbed his back, whispering with his soothing soft voice "Breathe. Breathe for me, Stevie!"

Steve gasped for air. Bucky took deep breathes aloud, and watched Steve following his lead, taking one deep breath after another. He struggled and coughed again, but he tried it again and again until his body had calmed down and he could fill his lungs with air again without the urge to cough it out.

"Thats better Steve. Thats good." Bucky's voice dripped with relief, but his eyes looked over Steve concerned and alarmed for the next cough attack.

"I am fine. Not dying yet. Thanks Buck!", Steve muttered and layed back into his pillow. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and thanked God. 

"Quit saying that, Rogers!", Bucky grunted. Then he slipped off his shoes and hopped onto Steve's bed.

"How are you feeling?"  
"Great. Lets mark another day of me not dying on the calender..."  
"Well there is someone optimistic. You are a punk, Steve!"  
"Jerk!", Steve shot back.

He looked over Bucky again. On his left cheek shimmered a stain of red lipgloss and his shirt partly was not tugged into his pants.

"How was your date?" Steve asked. He watched Bucky intensly so he immediately noticed his cheeks turning reddish and his lips formed a shy smile.

"Good. It was good."  
"Quite fruitful, huh?"  
"What?"

Steve pointed to his left cheek. "You missed a spot. Or didnt you wash your face after she licked it?"  
Whoa what was he so sarcastic for?? 

Bucky hesitated for a second, then he rubbed the back of his hand on his left cheek until the stain faded.

"She was really nice. We went out for ice cream. You know, I had saved a bit money, so i could take her on a proper date."

Steve just nodded. He didnt know how to answer. What to say.  
He just felt this sharp pain in his chest, while Bucky talked about his date.

Maybe he was dying? Maybe feeling like punching Bucky in the face for dating, for daring to tell him about it, maybe him dying was his punishment for feeling that way. Because concentrating on not giving away how hard it was to breathe while Bucky's lit up when he described Steve how it felt to take her hand and to peck her lips, that could not be living.

"Steve? Are you alright?"  
He jerked his head back to face Bucky. Has something given him away?  
"Yeah. Sorry still feeling a bit dizzy from all the coughing..."

Bucky's eyes looked over him and Steve felt his cheeks getting warm. 

"Okay"

And with that both dropped the topic and talked about safe things until it was getting dark and Sarah came back home. She sent Bucky home and Steve had never felt relieved when Bucky left before, but tonight he did.


End file.
